That Which Remains
by FanOfHan
Summary: Third in the Forgotten Time trilogy. A problem from the past comes to confront Han about his future, and brings him news of people he thought he'd never see.
1. Chapter 1

_Third in the _**Forgotten Time' **_trilogy._

_Thanks to Indeh for making this possible._

------

Pain suffused through his body, every inch alight with pain that was rapidly turning to agony. Every cell burned, every nerve seared, coherence left and returned and consciousness faded in and out. His throat ached, red raw in protest to his cries, but the suffering was too great to be contained and he screamed, as he had screamed for so long.

And still they tortured him.

Until he heard a voice, dimly aware of it, as he felt his life slip away, and it was a voice he knew: Deep, impatient, a rasping breath drawn between each word, released in a chilling hiss as the voice continued. But he couldn't remember who it was any longer.

His blood thundered in his ears, but he heard the words, managed to keep his eyes opened a little, though barely enough to allow light to enter them. Forceful fingers probed his wrists and neck, cold instruments invaded the warmth of his shirt, wires pierced his already hypersensitive skin.

"His life signs are failing, My Lord," said a second voice. "There's internal bleeding I think and his body is in shock. I'm amazed he's not paralysed. I'll be back in a few minutes. The best thing to do now is to kill him and not to waste our time. "

He tried to lift his head but failed, and instead he hung there from his bonds, head lolling forwards. He couldn't swallow anymore and strings of bloody saliva were slowly creeping from his mouth. He was beyond embarrassment now, beyond wanting to try and prevent them from leaving his cracked lips and splattering onto the floor, or running down his chin. He just hung there, wheezing softly.

"I made my orders clear. You were not to exceed 10,000," said the voice he knew.

"But My Lord-" a new voice protested, but was quickly cut off.

"Did you give him respite as I told you?"

"When he lost consciousness-"

"Other than that?"

"N-No, My Lord."

"You know the power of this machine. You know the damage it can do at the wrong levels. The days here are nearly triple that of a standard cycle. He has been interrogated continuously since the morning. And it is now afternoon. How many times has he lost consciousness?"

"Twice, My Lord."

"You did not allow him other rest. Correct?"

"Yes, My Lord."

"Can he be saved?"

The second voice answered him.

"I regret not, My Lord. His body is beyond repair."

The instruments and wires were wrenched away and footsteps, harsh and too loud, echoed off the walls.

Then the voice he knew spoke again.

"You have failed me, Commander."

There was a short, stifled protest, then soft choking and a thud.

Then there were more footsteps, footsteps that grew louder, and then a hand slid under his chin and lifted his head because he could not, wiped the blood and spittle from his jaw.

Immediately, he tried to pull away, but, even if he'd had the strength, the hard metal at the back of his head prevented it, as it had prevented his escape from the blinding pain of his torture.

"You remain defiant?" the deep, rasping voice asked.

He attempted to spit but he couldn't muster the energy. Instead he let his mouth twist up into a half-grin-half-sneer.

"I admire you, Captain," the voice said.

This time, he managed a soft snort.

"You are dying."

Finally, his abused throat gave him voice.

"Yeah."

The hand under his chin lifted still higher to turn his head up to the lights. He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut.

"You would do well to stay silent, Captain."

Again, he tried to turn his head, but the hand grasped his chin and forced his face forward.

"Look at me."

The other hand lifted and two fingers pressed into the middle of his forehead. The almost gentle pressure that was then applied seemed to penetrate his skull and push right into his mind.

"Why did you accept the torture, Captain?"

Some voice inside his mind told him to fight the pressure, not to let it in for this was an evil greater than any, and any other time he might have been able to. But now, now he was weak and in pain and dying, now he could not fight it.

When he thought of the answer, the pressure lifted a little and he knew that if he just answered, if he just spoke, gave in to that pressure, then it would go away.

"Because…I care…about…them…"

"And why do you care about them?"

The pressure pushed deeper into his mind and he could feel his heartbeat slowing even as he answered.

"They're…my friends…"

"Your friends? And what of her? What is it that you feel for her?"

The pressure increased again and he could feel his lungs tiring, realised he was slurring his words, and wanted suddenly to say it.

"I love her…" he whispered, "…I love her…"

Blackness descended on him and his heart refused to keep its steady rhythm.

Vader watched the man he had ordered tortured with interest and something else, almost as though he pitied the man.

Vader had watched as the Captain had been led from his friends and he had felt the fear radiating from him. But the Captain had not shown it. He had walked at his own pace, hands clapped in binders in front of him, head held high, and he had stared ahead of him, waiting for his interrogation.

He had not struggled when they took him away, nor had he protested when they bound him to the platform, and he had stared expectantly as Vader had paced the room, eyes staring defiant, contemptuous and abhorrent, waiting for the questions.

Vader had felt the man's resolute acceptance as he watched the proceedings – the checking of the energy levels, the orders not to exceed levels, the order to begin – and had seen his face when he knew that there were to be no questions. Vader had felt the pride and the courage the Captain had mustered. Vader had heard the first grunts of pain, the first cries, the screams, and for what reason?

Because the courage and strength that surrounded this man, the power of the friendships he held, of the bonds he had made, would draw another. This man's pain would serve Vader's purpose.

He had felt the black torrent of agony wash over him even when he distanced himself from the chamber, the desperate helplessness and the anger. He had felt the exhausted lulls in that pain when his captive had lost consciousness.

And now this man was dying, his spirit preparing to leave his body even as Vader supported his head. The man's skin was snow white and drawn against stark cheekbones.

And his words stirred something long forgotten in Vader, something old and weak.

He stretched forth with the force and found the Captain's light in the force, strengthened it with his own. He felt the first wave of the pain as he healed this man and almost had to draw away.

The man was even braver then he had first thought. And to have sustained two, getting on for three, days of this pain – no; more than this pain – was incredible. It was admirable to say the least.

Again he pushed life into the dying light. And this time the Captain grunted.

_No!_

The Captain's voice, unspoken but projected, echoed in his mind.

He pushed harder.

_No! No!_

The Captain was trying extremely well to fend of the attack, to shield his mind from Vader's probing, but the weakness of his body was depleting his ability to defend himself.

And, as Vader pushed further, he found the memories behind an almost impenetrable wall, erected in pain and anguish. There were many; the first time he had flown his ship and the love he had for her and her flight, the first time he took a woman, the first time a woman took him. The Captain squirmed, regaining consciousness as awareness returned.

The first time he'd fought, fired a blaster, met the boy, defied a senior officer.

And then he saw it. A woman and a man with similar features to him but not to each other. A memory he apparently did not even know he had.

But the man in that memory, the uniform he wore and the child his wife held in his arms…

The aura of the Captain was strong again, although streaked with the blackness of pain and hatred. Vader withdrew his hold on the man's mind as he released his head and took a step back.

The man's eyes were open now and his head was held straight once more though his body shivered, hazel eyes bright with audacity Vader had not seen before. The gaze was so intense, in fact, that Vader turned away to avoid it.

The medic walked back in, with a new officer, and over to the Captain, then stopped short as he saw that the man was wide awake.

"Give him something to relieve the shock," Vader ordered. "And take his blood for testing."

"Yes, My Lord."

The Medic watched open mouthed as Vader began to stalk out.

"Then resume the interrogation. And _do not_ exceed 5000."

"Yes, My Lord."

He was about to leave when a harsh voice stopped him.

"Vader!"

Vader turned before he left and faced the Captain who addressed him boldly in a barely audible voice even as the surgeon took blood and prepared the scan grid to begin again.

The bright eyes, open wide and unafraid, and the gaunt face, pale and drawn, stared at him.

"Why are you doing this?"

Vader drew a rasping breath.

"That is not your concern, Captain Solo. Proceed."

The scan grid platform began to tilt forward again and Vader turned to leave.

He was only halfway down the corridor before Solo screamed again.


	2. Chapter 2

Fourteen Years Later… 

Han wondered for a few seconds what had woken him. Was it Leia? No, she was still asleep. Was it the distant thunder he could hear? It couldn't be; it was too quiet to wake even him. Was it Anakin's foot? Despite the fact that said foot was up against his forehead, he doubted it.

Then he noticed the beeping.

After he established (by moving Anakin's _other_ foot away from his throat) that it was not the alarm clock, he frowned and ran a hand over his face. Then he closed his eyes again, pushed his face back into the pillow, and tried to go back to sleep.

The beeping continued to invade his sleep, however, and he soon discovered that, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, it still pierced his slumber and rang in his ears.

He attempted to block it out but Anakin stirred suddenly, though only a little, and kicked out. Han's head snapped back with some force and he raised his hand to his forehead with a soft,

"Ouch!"

He sat up with a few well chosen Corellian curses muttered under his breath and frowned at Anakin. His youngest son did not notice; he was still fast asleep, a beatific smile on his face. It was only the fact that it was a nightmare that had brought this six year old to his parents' bed that kept Han from holding his interrupted night against him.

He sighed softly and rose from the warmth of the bed to go to the comm. unit as he now realized it was that which had woken him. He cast another disparaging glance at Anakin as he took hold of the pillow that Han had been lying on. Then Leia put her arm around him and smiled.

Han shook his head. Much as he loved – loved – having a family, it was sometimes a little difficult.

But then he smiled. He could deal with a little nuisance now and again if it meant he had life this way. Thinking about it, he couldn't be happier.

Apart from that damn beeping.

Han was a smuggler and couldn't sleep through a hiccup if he was in a certain mood. But his wife and children could probably sleep through a cruiser launch even if they were lying on the platform. He scrubbed his hand over his face again and stood, adjusting the twisted waistband of his black silk pajama bottoms – he never wore the shirt.

As a matter of fact, were it not for the occasional bad dream that brought his children to his bed, he wouldn't even bother with those. As it was, though, his children often catapulted themselves across him on a morning if they deemed it was time to wake up. But he wouldn't be getting that treatment this morning.

Whoever was calling him better have a damn good reason for it.

But the little face that greeted him on the screen was not what he expected.

"Luke!"

"I'm sorry, Han," he said hastily, before he could protest. "I know it's early over there-"

"It's more'n a little early, Kid, it's three a.m. This better be good."

"Han-"

There was a sudden explosion in the background – Han heard it – and Luke ducked involuntarily. Outside, Han heard another peal pf distant thunder, and realized that it was in fact, the distant explosion.

"Kid, are you-"

"There are loyalists in the Imperial Palace, Han! I'm calling to-"

Another explosion echoed across the speakers and the image reverted to static for a second.

"Loyalists? Now?"

More static.

"I know….seems…but it's…need help..!"

"Kid! Kid, you're breakin' up!"

"We….help! You…here…Help!"

The image fuzzed out completely.

"Kid? Kid?"

But the image fuzzed out completely and left Han staring at a blank screen.

"Han!"

Han spun about to find Leia staring at him, wide eyed, apparently terrified, Anakin in her arms in a similar state.

There came the sudden sound of crying from the other room and, within ten seconds, both Jacen and Jaina ran into the room. Jacen ran to the bed and hugged his mother, and Jaina immediately ran to her father. He scooped her up obligingly and whispered soothing words to her, but his gaze held Leia's.

"Han," Leia whispered, "it's-"

"Luke. I know, he just called. I'm gonna get Chewie and then him and me're gonna get down there."

"Daddy," said Jaina softly, "I'm scared."

"Why, sweetheart?" he whispered, stroking her back as Jacen and Anakin hugged Leia harder, walking over to the window and turning the dimmer switch.

Out on the horizon, smoke was rising from the imperial Palace and even small fires were visible.

When Han turned back, Leia was pale, and Han knew it was not only from sleep.

The children were still crying.

"There were people in the little rooms," Jaina said.

"Hurting,"" Jacen agreed.

"Men with white on!" Anakin whispered. "With scary faces."

"Stormtroopers," Leia confirmed as Han walked over to her. "Officers and troopers and cells and-"

Han grasped her wrist as he lowered Jaina to the bed and he held her gaze.

"I'm on my way, Princess."

He bent and kissed her quickly and then snatched his clothes off the back of a nearby chair.

--

The old Imperial Palace, used as a public venue for parties or conferences, was now lit from the inside and small fires burned in several craters in the walls as the attack vehicles did their jobs. Around the building were troops and ammunition crates, all shielded behind whatever was available. Shuttles and speeders, as well as search vehicles flew and zipped and hovered, all casting their searchlights on the building. Blaster bolts were flying everywhere.

A piece of debris flew over Han and Chewie's heads as they alighted from the shuttle. Han had to shout over the noise.

"What's The Situation?" he yelled, a white searchlight blinding him momentarily as it thrummed over the site.

"General!" said the man he was addressing, one General Tonosta, an old ally of the New Republic. He had played a major part during the rebellion against the Empire, and had even saved Han's life on a mission he and Leia had shared to Corellia long before they were married.

He grabbed Han's hand with one of his own and clapped the other to Han's shoulder.

"Good To See You! Imperial Loyalists Have Taken The Building! We Believe There Are Prisoners And Hostages!"

"Hostages?" Han shouted.

"Yes! One Of Our Groups Was Captured During The Last Big Explosion!"

"Luke?"

Tonosta nodded.

"Commander Skywalker Was In Charge Of The Group! We Believe They Have Transferred To The Building In An Attempt To Take The City!"

"Coruscant City? Who Are They Kidding?"

Tonosta looked at him darkly.

"It Seems Far Fetched, General, But With All The Hostages And Prisoners They Hold, We Have Little Say In The Matter!"

Han glanced at the building.

"What's The Plan?"

Tonosta Gestured toward the groups huddled closer to the building.

"There Are Several Ways Into The Building! We're Going To Send Teams In Through The Underground Network! We Have The Building's Blueprints!"

"I Want To Go In! I'll Take Chewie! We Can Help!"

Tonosta nodded.

"We Need More Forces On Hostage Retrieval! We Could Use You!"

"Alright!" Han answered. "Where Do I Go?"

"You'll Be In Charge Of Hostage Retrieval Gold! Find Armitage! He'll Get You Kitted Up!"

Han waved his thanks as he and Chewie hurried off, keeping as low as they could as blaster bolts sizzled dangerously close.

--

Luke regained consciousness slowly. He felt very alone – completely alone – as though everyone on Coruscant or even in the galaxy had ceased to exist.

He cast a blurry glance about his cell and saw, just beyond the reach of his chains, a ysalamiri in the corner. He shook his head and tried to raise his hand to his aching head but the chains seemed to weigh his entire body down. As feeling slowly returned to his body, he felt the wound in his leg begin to throb and winced, moving to try and see it, but that only made it bleed more.

He found it took all of his energy just to sit up and that, once he had done that, he needed to lean against the wall to catch his breath.

He didn't need the Force to know that he was getting weaker and he also knew that he had no hope of slowing the bleeding or in any way helping himself as long as ysalamiri resided in the corner.

And he was too weak by far to get to it.

--

"How's that feel?" asked the man in his mid thirties, Armitage, as he watched Han tugging on the collar of his armored vest.

He turned his head sharply and then turned back again.

"It's a little loose around the neck," he answered.

Armitage reached forward and snagged one of the straps at the back of the back of the jacket and gave it a quick tug.

"Better?"

Han nodded.

"Yeah. Which weapon am I using?"

Armitage turned and lifted the heavy gun from behind a nearby table.

"You'll be using this," he said matter of factly. "A DL-"

"44 Blaster Rifle. Boy, I never thought I'd see on of those again."

Armitage watched him as he raised the rifle and looked through the sight.

"You know the weapon?" Armitage asked with the hint of a smirk on his lips.

"I know the weapon," he nodded.

"Then I don't need to instruct you in using it?"

Han gave him a glance that said, 'do I look like a mynock?', and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Thanks."

Armitage nodded.

"You'll need a comlink as well. You know your call sign?"

"Gotcha. Good luck."

"Yeah," Armitage agreed. "You too."

--

Luke tried again to reach the ysalamiri but failed miserably when his wounded leg twisted beneath him.

He tugged at the seam of his trouser leg and tore it until he had a good length of material. Then he folded it and stuffed it into his trousers where the blaster bolt had hit, hissing when it blocked the wound.

At least he had slowed the bleeding.

--

Three quarters of an hour later, Han held up a hand to halt the men behind him as they crept along the corridor.

All of the men stopped and then crouched as Han did, but they still held their weapons up high.

Han held up two fingers and flung his hand out to his left, then three and held his arm out behind him, palm horizontal and facing the ground. Then he made a forward motion.

_Two left, three stay here, the rest with me._

He made a low growl in his throat and, for an instant, the men following him thought he was clearing his throat, but they were all startled when Chewie made a similar noise to answer him.

Some of the men exchanged surprised looks. They knew Han could understand Wookiee but as for speaking it, they assumed he didn't bother. But Han nodded at Chewie's sound and then stood.

"Go!" he whispered and flung himself around the corner.

--

Leia watched as Threepio brought in a tray of hot chocolate for the children. They seemed reluctant to take it.

"Come on," she said softly. "You like hot chocolate."

They looked up at her, wide eyed and pale and took the drinks but did not consume them. Leia glanced at the chrono and saw that two hours had gone by since Han left with Chewie. The explosions from across the city had been constant.

"Mama?"

Leia looked down.

"Yes, Anakin?"

"When is Papa coming home?"

"Soon, Anakin," she answered, praying she was right. "Soon."


	3. Chapter 3

Han stepped over the Imperial Storm Troopers that lay on the ground and tapped one with the sole of his boot.

"Never thought I'd be doin' this again."

Chewie wuffled an agreement.

"Okay," Han said. "I need y'all to fan out. We should be able to get some of the prisoners and hostages outta here but we gotta do it by the book. There shouldn't be any more guards from here on but you never know so be careful, alright?"

He got murmured acknowledgement from the rest of what remained of his group. He had already sent most of the group down the cell-lined corridors they had been assigned to upon reviewing the blueprints of the Palace.

"Alright. You know where you're goin'. Good luck."

The men filed away, but Chewie rumbled a question before he left.

Han shook his head as he looked up at his friend.

"No, I need you to go with them, they're in more danger."

Chewie clapped a hand down on Han's shoulder and Han gave him a reassuring smile.

"Go, ya bug furball."

Han watched, making sure Chewie actually went. He let his men file past and then turned to follow them.

"Don't move!"

Han's eyes rolled before they closed.

"Ah, great."

"Silence."

The voice was cold and harsh and, as it approached, Han tried to picture the owner. Sounded average height and probably average build. Shouldn't be too difficult to take out.

But he spun about and saw a man at least three inches taller than him and a great deal broader.

As he moved to attack, the Stocky man drove his foot forward and caught Han completely off guard. Han clattered to the floor in a confusion of armored clothing and weaponry and landed hard.

He stifled a cry and tried to call for help.

"Cald-"

But he was dragged backwards by his ankle.

"We don't make things easy for men like you, Captain Solo," Stocky smirked.

"I'll bet," Han retaliated, twisting onto his back and jamming his foot into Stocky's stomach.

Stocky staggered back with a grunt and then launched himself forward with a yell, catching Han a stunning blow to the jaw.

Han sat down hard on the cold permacrete but scrambled out of the way before the man could grab hold of him. Instead, he crawled around the man and snatched a weapon from the ground, the first one he lay hands on. It turned out to be his canteen.

He swung it anyway and, though it connected with Stocky's temple, it had barely any effect. It simply served to infuriate Stocky more. As if to prove this point, stocky grabbed Han's collar and yanked him to his feet.

Han, desperate for some means of escape, brought his knee up sharply and Stocky doubled up in pain, hands between his legs.

He dropped Han as he crumpled and Han started to scramble for it, but, suddenly, he couldn't breathe.

He turned his head as best he could and saw that Stocky was holding the strap on the back of his jacket taut, tightening the collar. The memory of Armitage doing the same thing came back to get him and he shook his head. He had to get out of this.

He stretched out a hand toward his gun but Stocky kicked it away, laughing. The laughter sounded muffled, as though underwater, and Han could see blackness threatening the edges of his vision..

He turned onto his back again, to try and see if there was any way in all seven hells he could fight back. But Stocky pulled the cord harder and Han gagged soundlessly. This was it.

But a distant scream of a blaster penetrated his thoughts and then sweet, cool oxygen flooded his lungs. He gasped and gulped, unable to get enough of it, and lay still a few moments, wheezing. He looked up eventually and saw Stocky with a hole in his chest and Calder standing over him, a wide grin on his face, one hand extended towards him.

"Alright, sir? Thought you might need a hand."

Han nodded and grinned too as Calder helped him to his feet.

"Thanks," he said gruffly, rubbing his sore neck. "Let's go."

--

As the men of Gold group reached their various positions, the crouched, waiting for the order to move.

--

Han picked up his comlink and raised it to his mouth.

"Gold leader requesting call-in."

There was a moment of silence and then,

"_Gold two, standing by."_

"_Gold three, standing by."_

"_Gold four, standing by."_

Then there came a long growl and Han grinned.

"_Gold six, standing by."_

"_Gold seven, standing by."_

All of the sub-groups were ready. Han then switched frequencies and relayed a second message.

"This is Gold leader. All Gold units ready to go. HR Gold standing by."

"Copy, HR Gold. All HR Units stand by to move." 

Han waited silently, knowing that his men all had comlinks that provided them with the same message.

"_All HR Units commence attack. All HR Units commence attack."_

--

Leia watched the holonews' live coverage of the events at the Imperial Palace with growing concern. The building looked highly unstable and there were a great deal of uniformed men running around behind the news reporter.

She barely heard the words being said and simply watched as the situation unfolded.

There was a small explosion in the distance and the reporter looked a little more nervous.

"_Attempts are being made to regain control of the Palace as we speak and there is now a good chance that-"_

A unanimous cheer erupted behind him and cut him off. He touched a hand to his earpiece.

"_Wait…I think…yes…Yes! We have retaken the building!"_

--

Luke was lying on the floor now, his head swimming, his blood slowly collecting in a pool surrounding him. And, when he heard voices outside his cell, he figured that they had come for him and were going to kill him outright.

Luke groaned. His leg hurt like hell. It never occurred to him just how much he relied on the Force.

Slowly but surely, his vision darkened and his body lost the battle to stay conscious.

--

Chewie simply kicked this door down, just as he had the rest. Except behind this door was no long-time prisoner of the Imperial Loyalists but an old friend. Luke Skywalker lay deathly pale on the cold stone floor of the cell, his body surrounded by blood. Chewie raised his bowcaster and fired off two shots into the ysalamiri in the corner.

Immediately, Luke stirred.

Chewie lifted him and then turned, carrying him into the corridor where he placed the half-unconscious Luke on one of the many repulsor stretchers.

The medic saw the concern in the Wookiee's eyes.

"He'll be alright. Don't you worry."

Chewie didn't really have time to worry. He moved on to the next door.

--

They had been opening cells and rescuing those imprisoned inside them for three hours when they reached a section of children. Many were already dead. Some died as they reached them.

But those who were lucid enough to talk mistrusted the men in their cells immediately. They didn't trust any man in uniform. The type of uniform didn't matter.

--

"How many so far?" Han asked, collaring one of the younger men to gain an answer.

"Two hundred and eighty seven, Sir," he responded.

Han nodded. The cells here could only hold four hundred, max, and he knew the Imperials wouldn't have brought more prisoners than they could keep.

"Alright," he nodded. "Well, let's keep going."

The next door Han opened was more heavily locked than most of the rest. And there was only one occupant. She was young, long brown hair, quite tall if she hadn't been huddled in the corner, and she would have been pretty were it not for her appalling lack of color and her abominably thin body. She was grimy and her clothes were so torn they barely covered her. She had multiple bruises and lacerations and she was shivering.

But she almost looked – apart from the terrible evidence of her maltreatment – the way Han though Jaina might look in a few years.

The girl looked at him with big honeyed-hazel eyes and held her head up defiantly as the door swung open.

When Han approached her, her jaw set and she narrowed those eyes.

Han stood in front of her and was about to kneel down to talk to her when she reached for the buttons on what remained of her shirt and started to undo them.

"What are you doing!" Han asked, a little louder than he had intended.

"My apologies," she said sarcastically, leaving her buttons alone. "I didn't realize your preference."

She shuffled forward again, on her knees, and reached up toward him. For a moment he was puzzled and almost extended a hand to help her up. But then she closed her too-thin fingers about his belt buckle and yanked it open.

He grabbed her wrist and stepped back with a strangled cry.

"Stop!"

She looked up at him, eyes bright with contempt.

"Then what do you want?"

He shook his head.

"What are you doing? Why did you-"

"Don't play this game with me. I know why you're here. They send all the new officers down to me for a little fun. Now what do you want so that I can be done with you?"

Han was suddenly aware that his mouth was hanging open.

"How old are you?" he croaked, finding his throat dry.

"Fourteen. And you?" she responded insolently.

He knelt down in front of her and held her gaze.

"Are you trying to tell me they send new officers down here for…for…"

"Service," she finished for him. "So what do you like?"

He tried to take her hand but she snatched it away.

"Listen to me," he whispered, "please. We're the authorities. We're here to rescue you."

"Oh?" she asked, he voice dripping with skepticism. "And what about the others?"

Han nodded earnestly.

"Them too. We're going to take you to the hospitals and make sure you-"

She started to laugh, first softly, then outright. Han frowned, completely flummoxed.

"You know," she said, her mouth curving up into a wry half-grin, "if I were seven I might believe you."

"What?" said Han before he could stop himself.

"The number of times you people have tried that one, you ought to know better than to think I'd fall for it again."

Han stared for a moment in absolute disbelief.

"Look," she said. "I don't care what you want, just take it so I can get fed."

"Fed?"

"Ah, the playing dumb routine. Yes, fed. I don't get fed till you get yours. Remember?"

"I don't know what I can say to you. I'm _not_ an Imperial Officer. I'm with NR Authority. We're here to get you out."

"Prove it."

Han broke her gaze to fumble in his armored vest and found, after a few seconds, what he was looking for.

"Look," he said, "here. It's my ID."

She took it from him and cupped it in her hands, hiding it from his view.

"What's your name?" she said.

"Han Solo."

"Rank?"

"General."

"Number?"

"145798B."

She looked up at him and handed the small card back to him. Then she let her head hang and shook it gently.

"What's your name?" Han asked softly, touching his hand to her shoulder.

"Tirinide," she answered. "It's Corellian for-"

"Trinity. I know. My last name comes from the Corellian for 'soul.' "

She nodded, face still out of his view.

"You're Corellian too?"

"Yeah," he said. "I was born just outside of Coronet. I think."

Tears splashed down onto the cold stone, but when she looked up, she was smiling.

"What took you so long, Solo?"

He shook his head again.

"I'm sorry."

"For taking so long?" she asked.

Han nodded.

"It's alright," she said softly. "But you're too late."

"What?" Han whispered. "Why?"

She finally relaxed a little and Han saw her wince.

"It doesn't matter. I'm glad you're here."

He bent his head to look into her eyes and saw that they were glistening.

"I'm not surprised," he said softly.

"Yes," she nodded, a weary smile on her drawn face. "I didn't want to die alone."

Before Han could question her, her eyes had closed and she fell forward into his arms, blood streaming from a gaping wound in her side.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: These two updates in quick succession are because I have a lot of work to do soon and I may not post for a while. Wish me luck and thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far. xx_

---

Han stood at the observation window, his wife's arm on his.

He sighed softly.

"We lost so many," he said, half to himself. "What were loyalists doing after so long?"

Leia stood on her tiptoes and kissed her husband's grimy cheek, running her fingers through his disheveled hair.

He glanced down at her, a grateful smile on his face.

He had returned home to assure his family that he and Chewbacca were safe, although they had already sensed it, and then he had returned to the hospital. Leia came with him, to check on Luke and to offer her husband her support.

Although he rarely admitted it to anyone but her, Han hated times like these, when he and the men he worked with had done everything in their power to aid the helpless and had failed so many anyway. But Leia never saw it as failure, Better to save these few than none at all. There was, after all, nothing else that could have been done.

He sighed again and let his head tip to rest on the top of hers.

"I really wish there was something else we could do," he said, his voice becoming muffled as he turned his head to kiss her hair.

She pulled away from him and reached up to trace the livid bruise that ran across his throat, then kiss it softly.

"You did all you could and I'm proud of you for it. You saved a good few tonight, my love."

"But we lost so may, too."

She touched a hand to his cheek.

"You mustn't dwell on it, Han. Yell me, what would have changed tonight?"

He nodded slowly and looked down at his boots.

"I guess nothing," he said softly.

She nodded and slipped her arms around his waist, resting her head against his armored chest, missing the warmth that vest kept from her but silently thanking the Gods he'd been wearing it. There was a rather nasty blaster burn on the front of it and it looked like it would have been fatal if he hadn't been protected. As though sensing her distress, he held her tighter.

"I love you," he whispered solemnly. "I love you and I love my family."

"We love you too," she whispered back, in no mood for the usual 'I Know' that was the running joke. "I love you, too."

"General?"

They broke their embrace to turn and face the young man at the door.

It was Calder.

"The Doctor wants to see you. About the girl you found."

"Tirinide!" Han said, without thinking.

"Yes, Sir," Calder answered, a little puzzled. "The Doctor wants to ask you some things."

Han nodded, then turned and kissed Leia's gently, avoiding the temptation to open his mouth lest he be detained. Calder still flushed bright red and this, at least, brought a smile to Han's face.

"Easy there, Calder," he grinned. "And Leia, this is the man I was telling you about – the one who saved me from being throttled. Arrived just in time."

Again she traced the bruise on her husband's neck.

"So I see. Thank you, Captain Calder. I am in your debt."

She stepped forward and kissed his cheek.

If possible, Calder went even redder as he cleared his throat.

"Not at all, Ma'am," he said, raising a hand to his collar which had suddenly become very tight. "It was, uh, it was, uh, nothing, Ma'am."

"Oh, it wasn't nothing," she said, momentarily grasping her husband's hand.

"Well, uh, Your Highness, you're welcome."

She smiled and bowed her head to him.

Then she jumped as Han walked by her and gave her behind a quick squeeze before giving her a parting wink as they left.

She was pretty sure Calder hadn't seen but she gave Han a stern glare nevertheless, which only broadened his grin.

Once the door was closed, though, she allowed herself a small smile.

--

Han stared at the withered body in the bed before him.

"She needs liver," one of the doctors was telling him. "The wound went in from the side but damaged hers."

"She needs a new one?" Han asked.

"Either that or part of one. She's human. One will grow if she has enough to start with. But her type is rare. She needs help quickly and I'm not sure who'll qualify."

"I see which of the men wants to be tested," Han said, without hesitation. "And I'll go first."

"You realize, General, that if you or one of your men is found to be a match, you'll be having the operation tonight?"

Han nodded.

"Fine by us."

"You may want to inform your wife of the proceedings."

"Yeah," Han said, pulling out his comlink.

--

Ten minutes later, Leia watched as her husband rolled up his sleeve, the first of a long line of men. She was insanely proud of him for doing this, however unlikely it was that any of these men would match.

The doctor stepped forward.

"I must warn you now," he said, "that the odds of finding a match in time are about three thousand to one."

Han gave Leia a look but said nothing.

The doctor took blood from Han's arm and placed it on the table beside the girl's – Tirinide. Then he swabbed Han's arm and held a small piece of gauze to the puncture. Then he walked over to the station and placed the first phial in. A small reading came up but the doctor ignored it. It was only when he placed the second sample in that he frowned.

"My apologies, General. I must have mixed up the samples. I must retake."

Han nodded with a sigh and the doctor repeated the process. But he frowned again.

"I'm most terribly sorry," he said. "I don't know what's gotten into me."

Han frowned as the doctor came for a third sample.

"What am I, a damned pincushion?"

"Here," said Leia, reaching forward with a pen. "Let's label them, shall we."

The doctor nodded slowly, as though afraid that if he did anything quickly, he might accidentally kill someone.

He then took Han's blood and labeled it clearly. Then he continued and tested both samples.

"I don't understand," he said miserably. "It can't be."

"You haven't got them wrong again," Han said irritably, "have you?"

"I can't have. We labeled this straight away but-"

"Then what's the problem?"

The doctor looked at him.

"They appear to be identical."

"What?" Han said suddenly at exactly the same time as Leia.

They both moved forward to stare at the screen and saw, much to their amazement, that the doctor was completely correct.

"Here," said the doctor, "Let me try this."

He punched in a couple of commands and shook his head, astounded, as the results came up.

"They are exactly the same, except there's a Y chromosome here where there's and X chromosome here."

Han shook his head.

"But that's not even possible," he said. "She'd have to be a relative, wouldn't she?"

The doctor shook his head solemnly.

"I'm afraid not, General Solo. For this kind of match to occur, she'd have to be an exact genetic copy, with a few chromosomal changes of course."

Leia looked at Han, then at the Doctor, wide eyed.

"You mean she's…"

The doctor nodded.

"She's a clone."


	5. Chapter 5

"You're sure you still want to go through with this?" Leia asked him gently as he tugged off his shirt.

"Yes," he answered. "She can't give me any answers if she's dead. And besides, this is an opportunity."

She knew exactly what he meant. Here was a chance to do more for these poor souls who had spent so long in conditions no-one should ever have to face.

"Well, I'll be here when you wake up. Alright?"

"You better be," said Han. "I expect to get _something_ out of this."

And, as he grinned at her, they both knew what 'something' was.

--

But, although the operation went completely smoothly, the bantering was soon forgotten.

Leia Organa-Solo never enjoyed watching her husband cut open, but it was something she felt she had to do. If anything went wrong, she wanted to know about it. It always surprised her how much blood the surgeons got on their hands without considering it a problem. They held a man's life in their hands, two people's lives today, and they were perfectly casual about it.

_They do it every day, Organa, it's their job _she told herself.

But she was still worried right up until the point the surgeon finished and gave her the thumbs up.

She sighed heavily. The worst was over.

--

Warm fuzziness and a soothing voice were the first things that registered. The voice of an angel – it must be an angel – the voice was sensuous and calming and smooth and so deliciously clear.

"Han…" it said.

Now there was a voice you could fall in love with.

"Han…"

Yeah, that's right. I'm here.

"Han…"

There she was. Completely radiant, glowing, sparkling. Beautiful. Why was she here? To be with him, surely. She must be. The way she was stroking his chest left no room for doubt.

She wasn't smiling but she wasn't frowning either. Small tendrils of hair curled about her face and caught the light, giving her a halo, if she didn't already have one. Her hair looked so soft. Like her skin. She smelled wonderful.

She leant forward and brushed her lips against his forehead. Her hand in his, her chest against his, it felt incredible.

"Mmm," he said, pushing his head into the kiss, seeking more.

"Easy," she whispered, stroking his face. "Relax."

He tried to move his hand to touch her but she laughed softly.

He wanted to touch her, to tell her how beautiful she was, how warm, how soft, how sweet.

"…Dead..?" was all he managed.

She laughed again, softly.

"No, she's alive, you saved her."

Was she a reward then? He closed his eyes and tried to shake his head.

"…No…" he whispered. "…Me…"

Her smiled faded.

"What?" she asked.

"…'m I…dead..?"

She shook her head.

"No, Han. Whatever makes you think that?"

He stared at her.

Didn't she know?

"…Angel…" he answered, as he lifted an unsteady hand to touch his fingers to her pale cheek. "…Beautiful…"

She blushed and it only made her look more beautiful.

"Han, do you know where you are?"

"…Heaven..?" he ventured, a slow, languid smile settling across his face.

She smiled at him and closed her eyes.

"And how would _you_ ever get to heaven, Han?" she asked playfully.

He closed his own eyes and raised his eyebrows.

"…Beats me…" he answered. "…But you're…defin't'ly…an angel…"

She leant forward and brushed her lips over his.

"…Are you…an angel..?"

She kissed him, long, soft and slow. She tasted amazing, like every emotion he'd ever enjoyed, like life essence, like love, and she smelled like nothing he'd ever had the pleasure to encounter before, a musky scent that ignited every cell, turned nerve endings into beginnings. Her tongue, hot and smooth, slid over his lips and gained entrance to his mouth, caressing his own tongue, tasting him, teasing him. He groaned into her mouth. Warmth spread through his veins, into his limbs; he'd never felt so alive. Oh yes, she was an angel alright. Although the feelings he was having now certainly wouldn't have done anything for virtuousness. Maybe she could be bad if he persisted…

It was so good it almost hurt when she pulled away and he tried to move to follow her, but a warm hand at his shoulder stayed the movements. He whimpered softly. It was too cold without her.

"Ahem…"

Han started.

What in the..?

Oh no.

Awareness flooded back to him. A hospital bed, a hospital room, his ever-patient wife by his side, his mending brother-in-law in a repulsorchair and a doctor or two staring down at him amusedly.

He groaned and swiped a hand across his face.

Did I really just say that?

"Uh," he began hoarsely. "Hi."

Luke laughed outright and the doctors stifled chuckles. Leia mumbled a sympathetic,

"Poor Nerfherder,"

and nuzzled his ear but he could feel her grin.

"Alright, alright," he said slowly, wishing he didn't sound so drunk. "So the meds addled m' brains. Leemee alone."

He turned his head towards Leia's and closed his eyes.

She kissed the tip of his nose.

"Well," she said softly. "I think you're alright."

Han nodded.

"Yeah. Now tell 'em to go 'way."

"We have to run tests firs, General."

Han groaned.

"It's alright, Han, you can lie still," said Luke.

Han heard the movements of the doctors and gasped as cold instruments were pressed against his bare skin.

"Cold!" he said to Leia, and she laughed again. "Oh, sure. All fun for you."

After a few minutes, the doctors were finished with their tests and, satisfied with the results, they left.

"How do you feel?" Luke asked, a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Han shot him a look.

"Never better," he mumbled.

Luke nodded.

"Mmm," he said. "Well, I'm going to leave you two alone."

He thrummed out of the door still chuckling to himself.

Once the doors closed, Han groaned again.

"Aw, man," he muttered.

Leia laughed softly and stroked his forehead.

"Angels! Get a little confused for a moment there, did we?" she said.

"I don't know," he said slowly, pretending to examine her face meticulously.

She gave him a perplexed little smile and rested her head next to his on the pillow.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"From what I can see," he murmured, "I was right."

She smiled at him and shook her head.

"Flatterer," she said.

"No such thing," he answered. "It's perfectly true."

She reached up and ran her hand along his cheek.

"You'll be all right now," Leia said, "both of you. It was a wonderful thing you did."

"Leia…" Han reached up and curved a hand around her neck, the slight tremor in his fingers translating into a swift shiver that ran down her spine.

She covered his mouth with hers and gave him the strength he needed, the love he relied upon, and she felt the same from him. His lips were dry but she had never tasted anything so wonderful. She slid her hand into his hair and cradled his head, feeling her heart melt when he let his head rock back into that hand, yielding himself to her and relishing the feel of her protection. He gave a small contented sound that sounded as though it took all of his energy, and then his lips ceased their movement against hers.

Gently, she drew away from him and watched as his mouth moved in the smallest of smiles before his breathing levelled.

"I love you," she whispered.

And, in a final sigh before sleep that was barely audible even this close, he whispered,

"I know..."


	6. Chapter 6

Han stood by the bed as she woke, watched her eyes open, and saw the fear there. Immediately, she tried to pull away from the doctors.

"Easy!" Han said, stepping forward. "Easy. Relax, it's me; Han."

Her struggled faded a little.

Come on," Han encouraged. "It's us. You're safe."

She looked around nervously, and then back at him.

"G-General Solo?" she asked weakly.

Han smiled.

"Yeah. Yeah, it's me. You're okay. You had an operation. It's alright now."

She looked at the ceiling.

"I'm alive?"

"Uh-huh," Han said enthusiastically. "Yeah. As long as you lie still, you're gonna be just fine."

She glanced at him, then looked around at the surgeons.

"Relax," he said, crouching down by the bed. "It's okay now. You hungry?"

"Hungry?" she said quietly.

Han nodded.

"Yeah, y'know. Do you want somethin' to eat?"

She narrowed her eyes.

"What do you want for it?"

Han's face went completely blank for a moment.

"What?"

"What do you want? In return for it?"

Han laughed nervously, ran a hand over his mouth and hesitated before he spoke.

"Well, I…"

Again, he laughed nervously.

"There're some questions I'd like an answer to but…you don't have to answer just to get food. I mean, it's your choice."

"Choice?" she asked, narrowing her eyes a little more.

"Yeah, you know. You can make this choice for yourself."

She shook her head.

"No," she said. "I mean, what does that mean? Choice?"

--

Han stood, watching Tirinide sleep, for a long time after he was supposed to have gone home, to bed. It was only when Leia came to him and slipped her arm about his waist that he moved at all from his leaning on the window frame.

He turned his head and then leaned into her embrace.

"Hey," he whispered.

"What are you doing here?" she said, sliding her hand inside his collar.

"I was just…"

He shrugged.

"I dunno. The poor kid. She's been through so much, you know? I mean, they used her as a…a…a plaything. She's fourteen."

Leia ran her hand over his shoulder.

"But she's safe now. Thanks to you."

"But she-!"

Leia kissed him instead of trying to counter his protest.

"Will you stop this, please? You are a wonderful man, who's saved hundreds of people. Despite her past, this girl now has a future to look forward to."

"But she didn't even know what Choice meant."

Leia's sure smile faltered for a moment.

"But you told her, didn't you? You explained it?"

Han nodded.

"I said a choice was a decision you make between one or more options."

"Well then-"

"And I had to spend the next half an hour explaining what option and decision meant."

Leia sighed her astonishment.

"Wow," she breathed.

"Yeah," he nodded.

"You look worn out," she said softly. "Come back. Come home."

For a moment, he hesitated. But she stood on her tiptoes and kissed his neck, softly at first, then more insistently.

"Come to bed, my love?" she whispered, allowing her hands to wander.

Slowly, he turned from the window and fell to kissing her softly as they walked away. His body ached undeniably, and not because of the pain. The touches she bestowed on him, both light and insistent, reminded him that it had been some days now. And he was looking forward to it. She was always especially gentle with him after he had been in hospital, and she usually stayed awake after he was asleep.

And so it was, later that night, as she pulled the thin, cool sheet up over his sleeping, naked body, and traced the new scar with her fingertips, that she watched him for a time, the lines of pain and stress of his face already lost to dreams so that he appeared younger, calmer, more at peace. And she marveled at the vulnerability he trusted her with. Awake, he was strong, authoritative, a leader, work roughened, fast and knowledgeable. But when they made love, he reveled in the submissiveness he was able to indulge in, the allowance she gave him to let go, to relax, and to learn as she learned. He was knowledgeable here, too, but gentle, slow and thorough, and, though she loved him at all times and always would, she still looked forward to this quiet time they enjoyed together. They both adored the willing loss of the control he strived so hard to keep during the day, and the way, when he was finally exhausted, she would take care of him, guide him with gentle hands toward the haven of slumber. She stroked the hair back from his face, noting that it was still slightly paler than usual, and she smiled as he stirred and pushed a little closer. Entwined, as they often found themselves, his legs tangled comfortably with hers, his arms about her waist and hers about his shoulders, she looked down at him where he lay nestled against her, his temple against her shoulder.

Caressing his face, she saw that there were still bruises and small cuts there, but she could tell from his expression that they were causing him no pain. She leant back to turn out the light, and he stirred again, brow furrowing, murmuring fretfully at the sudden loss of her warmth.

"Easy," she whispered, brushing a kiss over his brow as she turned back. "It's alright. I'm still here."

He quieted once more, but not until he had moved his body so that his face rested against her neck.

"Leia…" he sighed, and then he was still once more.

--

"But you're sure?"

Han Solo stood about a foot taller than the doctor. In fact, he stood about a foot taller than a lot of people. That usually served to his advantage. And right now, it was helping him be intimidating.

"Uh, I'm positive, uh, General Solo. They're your genetics. She's a clone."

"But why would she…What could they possibly want with a clone of me?"

The doctor looked around nervously.

"I'm sorry?"

"Rhetorical question," Han muttered. "Can I see her? Alone?"

The doctor looked uneasy.

"General-"

"Please?" he said. "She won't give me any answers while there are other people there to hear them."

The doctor sighed.

"You have half an hour."

--

"Hey," Han said softly, as he approached the bed. "Y'awake?"

She lay on her side, facing away from the door, so he couldn't tell.

She gave no reply.

"Tirinide?"

Still she didn't move.

"It's me, Han."

This time, her head turned a little.

"General?"

"Yeah," Han smiled, hoping she could hear it in his voice.

She rolled onto her back and looked at him.

"Are you alright?" she asked. "You didn't tell me you were my donor."

Han nodded tersely, embarrassed.

"Uh, yeah, I'm good."

"Good," she said softly and, for the first time, he saw the ghost of a smile.

"Listen, I have a couple of things I'd like to ask you. I don't want anything except the answers and I won't force you for those. But if you feel you want to tell me then I'm right here. Okay?"

She nodded slowly.

"Okay."

"Alright. Now, first of all, about this transplant."

He held up a hand as she opened her mouth to talk.

"I don't want anything for it," he said, and she settled back into the pillows. "I wanted to ask you if you knew why it had to be me to be your donor."

She shook her head.

"Do you know what a blood type is?"

She narrowed her eyes a moment, thinking. Then she nodded.

"Good," Han said. "Do you know what DNA is?"

This time she shook her head and Han sighed.

"Deoxyribose Nucleic Acid. Don't worry," he said, noting her expression. "You don't have to remember that. But what DNA is, what is does, that's important."

She nodded.

"Okay."

"Right," he smiled. "DNA is some of the tiny, tiny tiny building blocks that make up a person. You know when you bleed?"

"Yes," she told him.

"Well it's not really what it looks like. It's actually hundreds and thousands of little pieces called cells. And what makes up those cells is DNA. And nobody's is the same as anyone else's."

"So they're really small?"

"Yep," he said smugly. "Really really really small."

She smiled.

"Really, really, really, really, _really _small?"

He laughed.

"Yeah," but then his smile faded. "Well a long time ago, people learned how to make copies of other things' DNA, and grow new things."

"So they're the same?"

"Yeah," Han nodded, "and they started out with small things, worked their way up. They made a nerf a few years back."

"A nerf?"

"Yeah, you know, a cloud with legs?"

She smiled.

"Yeah, I've seen those. When we moved to Orelia, they didn't block up my windows right. I saw nerfs before."

Han swallowed thickly.

"R-right, well, they made a nerf that was exactly the same as the other nerf, let her grow up."

"Exactly the same?"

"That's right. And that's called a clone. It's completely separate from the first one, but it wouldn't be here without it and its building blocks are the same. But after that…Well, they started doing other things to the DNA-"

"How did they see it?"

Han sat back and sighed, thought about it for a minute.

"As soon as you're better, I'll show you a microscope. That's how they saw. It lets you see really, really tiny things, smaller than you can see on your own."

"Okay," she said, placated for now. "So what other stuff did they do?"

"Uh…They learned how to change some other building blocks, called chromosomes. They learned how to make DNA from a guy nerf into DNA for a girl nerf, and how to make DNA from a girl nerf-"

"Into DNA for a guy nerf?"

"That's it, you got it. And all you have to do to make one into the other is change one chromosome to start with."

At this she looked puzzled.

"Only one?"

"Only one."

"That's really good," she said quietly.

Han cocked his head and winced.

"Some people think so. But I needed to explain that before I tell you why I match you, why you had the operation with me and not someone else."

She crossed her legs on top of the covers and gazed at him intently, the way the children did at storytime.

"To be able to have the operation with you, my blood type had to match your blood type."

"And it did?"

"It did. But it didn't just match, Tirinide. It was the same."

Her brow furrowed and she looked at where her bare feet were tucked under her knees.

"So I'm a clone?"

It took all of his strength to answer her.

"Yes."

"But I'm a girl nerf and you're a guy nerf?"

"Yes, Tirinide."

Again she looked at her feet.

"But my blocks are the same as your blocks."

"That's…that's right. But you're a separate person, you're a person in your own right."

"Okay," she said, and lay down on the mattress, pulled the covers up to her chin. "Thanks."

Han stood to tuck her in.

"What for?"

"For the coming to get me, and for sharing the operation. And for the building blocks. I wouldn't be here if I didn't have those."

And then she closed her eyes and went to sleep.


End file.
